REVISITING GOALS

MORE than sixteen years ago, I saw myself as a rudderless ship carried away by the waves in a turbulent sea. I felt completely alone in my rented room in Roxas District, Quezon City. I had been in bed for the entire day, sick with a fever, worrying that my remaining money wouldn’t last the week, and deeply bothered by a call for help from my younger sister, who was in dire need of a large sum to pay for a school requirement. My low salary as a proofreader for a publishing house couldn’t provide me or my family with any financial security or peace of mind. I couldn’t sleep. I felt trapped in a barren landscape—marooned in the uncomfortable space between where I was and where I wanted to be.

Something deep inside me demanded a change, yearning for a more positive and present life. I knew I needed to live differently, and that many aspects of the life I was currently leading had to change. So, what do I actually want to do? What will I do beyond working, eating, and dreaming? Someday, my time on earth will end. Before I die, what do I really want to accomplish?

As if on cue, I rose from my bed, grabbed a pen, tore a page from my notebook, and wrote a single word in bold, capital letters: GOALS. There were so many milestones, both big and small, that I genuinely wanted to reach. I realized I had to begin working toward achieving them instead of letting them sit vaguely in my mind as a far-off "Someday..." or a hollow "I wish." I started sketching what would become a map or a blueprint for the route ahead. I expected this exercise to push me in the direction of my dreams. It was meant to be my guide—my personal set of instructions for hanging on.

I wrote that original list in 1995:

Immediate Goals:

1.      To finish my masteral degree by age 26.

2.      To see Nove (my sister) finished her college education by March 2000.

3.      To get married between 1997 and 1998.

4.      To be a college instructor before the age of 28.

5.      To own a house before the age of 30.

6.      To see my parents happy in their retirement years by giving them capital for 

         business before I turned 30.

7.      To be able to write an Iluko novel before the age of 26.

8.      To be able to write stories and poems for English magazines before the age 

         of 26.

9.      To write a book (any topic of general interest) before I reach 35.

Lifetime Goals:

1.      To buy back the TV set that we sold to Abat (our neighbor).

2.      To maintain my correspondence with my present pen friends.

3.      To own a camera and be a professional photo essayist.

4.      To travel around Europe.

5.      To be an elected government official.

What I had constructed was a motivational "to-do" list where every single item held deep, personal significance. I made this long before the term "bucket list" or personal internet blogs became a cultural fad. After drafting it, the paper stayed tucked away inside my personal files, specifically inserted into a short-lived diary. It served as a practical reminder that I was in control of my own destiny. It became the turning point of my life—a singular moment of profound self-realization.

Eventually, life got busy. Tied down by immediate daily responsibilities, my list grew less and less relevant to my day-to-day reality. I got married, started a family, and transitioned through various jobs. My list was buried deeper into my files, and I only managed to look at it once or twice over the years. The last time I retrieved it was while sorting through my personal belongings after a deeply transformative, life-changing experience last year.

Fast forward to the present: did I achieve these goals, or any of them? Is my life better or more improved than it was 16 years ago?

Looking at it now, I can finally start crossing off the items I have achieved so far. Here is the update to my list:

I married in 1996, a year earlier than planned. I enrolled in the PUP Graduate School, but I dropped out after two semesters to focus entirely on establishing my new family. Due to the lack of a postgraduate degree, I never qualified to be a college instructor. On the other hand, my sister successfully graduated from college in 1999; after a few years of working across different industries, she bravely went back to school for an Accounting degree, graduated last year, and passed the CPA board exams.

I bought a house on a loan when I was 34. And, yes, I had my very first Ilocano novel published in Bannawag magazine, and several of my poems have appeared in English magazines and literary websites. While I haven't published a book of general interest under my name, I did self-publish an anthology of the short stories I wrote for Bannawag before I turned 30. I failed to give my parents the startup capital for a business, but today, with the collective help of my siblings, they are incredibly happy living their senior years.

As for my lifetime goals, I realize only now that the list was incomplete and didn't fully capture everything I wanted to achieve. Out of the items I did list, only one is no longer possible to achieve: my goal—or rather, my obsession—to buy back the television set given to our neighbor as collateral for my father's loan. By the time I finally had the money to buy it back, the television was completely broken and unusable.

I had three pen pals when I first wrote that list. Today, with emails, SMS, Facebook, and other social networking platforms, staying in touch is easier than ever. One of those pen pals is now a schoolteacher living in Muntinlupa; she is a friend on Facebook and regularly sends updates to my phone. Another pen pal, whom I used to see frequently whenever she stayed in Manila, is now married and living with her family back home in Ilocos. Lastly, my dreams of traveling to Europe, becoming a photo essayist, or even running for office remain open possibilities—though I no longer see myself entering the world of politics.

Should I make a brand new list? At my age, I prefer to think of my future in terms of firm intentions rather than idle wishes. No matter what happened or what didn't, this is MY life now. I choose to focus on what I have achieved and live each day positively. Failures belong firmly in the past tense, and that is exactly where they should stay—serving merely as a rich source of wisdom and quiet inspiration.

THE LAST VISITA IGLESIA

MY FAMILY shared only one Visita Iglesia—a Holy Week tradition that literally translates to "church visit". It was our very first time participating together, and it would ultimately be the last one we would ever have as a complete family. Before this, I had never taken part in this Catholic tradition of visiting multiple churches during the Lenten season.

It was Holy Thursday of 2010. I distinctly remember my wife’s palpable excitement. She had rarely participated in this religious event since her younger years, even though she had longed to do it every single year. Now, she was overjoyed that she was finally doing it alongside her own family.

The timing seemed perfect for us. A year earlier, we had enjoyed a wonderful vacation in Ilocos Sur for the Lenten break. We had so much fun attending family reunions, swimming, and picnicking at the beach. We had even traveled as far north as Bangui to see the giant windmills, and Pagudpud in Ilocos Norte. Because of those fond memories, when my wife suggested this religious activity to our children, she didn't need to use any convincing charm. My kids were genuinely curious to see how this summer ritual was carried out.

My wife explained to them the spiritual significance of this "journey"—a pilgrimage marked by prayer, sharing, quiet reflection, and fasting, which traditionally takes place on Holy Thursday. The custom involves visiting seven different churches, praying at two Stations of the Cross per visit (though some observers choose to visit fourteen churches instead). My wife deeply hoped that this inaugural Visita Iglesia would provide a beautiful opportunity for our family to quietly enjoy a mini-tour while simultaneously fulfilling a sacred religious duty. She even suggested making it an annual family tradition.

Looking back, I know my wife desired this pilgrimage so intensely because of her health. She was battling stage 2 breast cancer, a diagnosis she chose to hide from our children and her friends. She chose silence because she believed with endless hope and profound faith that the Lord would heal her. She felt a deep, spiritual calling to visit various miraculous churches to pray for her recovery, and she wanted her family standing by her side, praying with her.

I took charge of planning the route. Days before Holy Thursday, I busied myself searching the internet for the seven churches we would visit (as this was my first time, I had to start from scratch). I carefully calculated the distances between the parishes and the travel times required to move from one to the next, even consulting a few friends for advice. Our son, Dudoy, was particularly excited to see the historical, Spanish-era churches included in our itinerary. I promised him and his siblings that I would provide some historical and cultural background at each stop.

Initially, we planned to hire a van. Another family had agreed to join us and split the rental cost, but the driver we approached days in advance was unavailable on Holy Thursday. In the end, it was just our family that set out that morning.

Because my wife had lived with her family in one of the neighborhoods around Old Manila, our destination was comforting and familiar to her. It was a typical, scorching summer day. Before leaving Bulacan, we made sure we were armed with comfortable clothes, sunglasses, umbrellas, hats, plenty of drinking water, and hand towels.

1st Stop: Binondo Church

This church stands majestically in the heart of Manila’s Chinatown within the Binondo District. Formally named the Minor Basilica of San Lorenzo Ruiz, it honors the first Filipino saint, who lived and grew up in this neighborhood. I frequently pass by this structure whenever I head to Divisoria to hunt for affordable goods or to visit relatives in Tondo, but this was my first time ever stepping inside its doors.

2nd Stop: Manila Cathedral

The Cathedral, or the Basilica of the Immaculate Conception, is located inside the historic walled city of Intramuros. Serving as the seat of the Roman Catholic Archdiocese of Manila, its imposing facade and massive dome are clearly visible even from a distance. It offers a grandiose, timeless view to anyone standing outside.

3rd Stop: San Agustin Church

San Agustin Church (Immaculate Conception Parish) is one of the oldest stone churches still standing in the Philippines. Situated just a short walking distance from the Cathedral, this magnificent UNESCO World Heritage Site feels alive with centuries of history.

  

4th Stop: St. Jude Archdiocesan Shrine

This church is dedicated to Saint Jude Thaddeus. As a cousin and apostle of Jesus Christ, Saint Jude is widely revered as the patron saint of desperate cases and hopeless causes. Consequently, a large number of devotees flock to the shrine every Thursday—especially students seeking spiritual strength before final exams or crucial professional board examinations.

5th Stop: San Miguel Church

This is the National Shrine of St. Michael and the Archangels. It was our first time visiting, and the kids were thrilled by the realization that they were walking through the historic grounds of Malacañang. Inside, the altar features a striking depiction of the crucifixion, flanked by individual statues of the seven archangels mounted on separate pillars. There is also a massive, 12-foot bronze statue of St. Michael triumphantly slaying a serpent, the symbol of Lucifer.

6th Stop: San Sebastian Church

Though my wife was born and raised in Malate, Manila, it was strangely ironic that she had never stepped inside the Basilica Minore de San Sebastian before this day. She and the children were completely captivated by this historic church, which is world-renowned for its unique, all-steel architectural design and structure. The soaring ceiling inside was the highest I had ever seen in my life.   

7th Stop: Quiapo Church

The Minor Basilica of the Black Nazarene (Quiapo Church) was our natural final stop due to its close proximity to San Sebastian. It was a church I passed daily on my commute to school, work, or home, yet I had only ever attended Mass there once or twice with my wife during the early years of our marriage. To me, the church and its surrounding streets always felt overwhelmingly crowded, operating as a bustling center of commerce for everyday city folks.

Of the seven churches we visited, this final stop proved to be the most challenging to complete. The square was packed with a vast multitude of people also performing their Visita. By the time we made it through, my wife and the children were thoroughly exhausted and hungry.

THE FOLLOWING year, in April 2011, we were unable to go on our planned Visita Iglesia due to my wife's rapidly worsening condition. In the months that followed, we managed instead to make a smaller pilgrimage to the Shrine of the Divine Mercy in our local area of Marilao, Bulacan.

That would be the final church we ever visited together. Our trip there in July of that same year was our very last outing as one complete family. Later that month, we rushed her to the hospital due to sudden complications from her illness, and she passed away two weeks later.